


Keeping A Secret

by safelybeds



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safelybeds/pseuds/safelybeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Class 2-2 and the secrets they keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping A Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the P4 kinkmeme in 2009

**_Souji_ **

Whenever his uncle asks him, Souji knows exactly what to do.  
  
He’s good at keeping things to himself. Some might say he’s good at lying, but he tends to avoid outright falsehoods as much as he can. Too complicated. Too many opportunities to trip yourself up. The key to obfuscating truth is cultivating a good poker face and learning when to hold your tongue, two things Souji had done long before arriving in Inaba.   
  
“You going out?” his uncle asks one Sunday morning, nose still buried in the paper while a thin ribbon of steam rises from his coffee mug. Souji pauses at the start of the hallway, swearing inwardly. He had hoped he might be able to make it outside before Dojima noticed.  
  
“Yeah,” he responds automatically, casual as ever, “I’m meeting Yosuke.”  
  
It’s not a lie. He and Yosuke  _are_  meeting up at the intersection a few blocks from Junes. That Chie and Yukiko will be waiting in the megastore‘s food court, armed and prepared, for them to head inside the TV…that, he doesn’t share.  
  
“The Hanamura kid, huh?” Dojima chews on the name for a moment, and Souji can see when the bits of scattered memory fall into place, “…You mean the boy who got you both arrested?”  
  
Souji’s smile doesn’t falter, although it does take on a sheepish edge when he speaks again.  
  
“Don’t worry, he’s not a bad guy. Just an idiot sometimes.”  
  
That’s not a lie either.  
  
“Yeah, well,” Dojima clears his throat, once again hiding his face in the newspaper, “Stay out of trouble.”  
  
Souji makes a small noise of agreement before turning back towards the front door. He takes three steps before the rustle of paper once again slows his pace to a stop.  
  
“Souji…,” his uncle begins, sounding considerably more awkward, “If there’s something you need to get off your chest, you can tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.” The following pause hangs heavy over them both, punctuated only by the muted songs of morning birds, “You do know that, right?”  
  
“Of course,” Souji replies, offering his Uncle the most sincere smile he can muster before turning away to leave.  
  
This time, it is a lie.

**_Yosuke_ **

They’ve been at it for almost thirty minutes now, voices rising to a point when Yosuke’s sure the neighbors will call the police. His headphones hang loosely around his neck, despite the ever increasing desire to slam them over his ears and crank the volume to full. He doesn’t want to listen, but he knows he  _needs_  to.   
  
Otherwise, he’s got nothing to build his story around.  
  
“Three more bruises,” his mother repeats for what must be the twentieth time, “ _Three more bruises_ , Takuya. And that‘s just since Tuesday! Who knows what else he‘s hiding under his clothes!”  
  
Yosuke twiddles with his headphone cords, contemplating that same question. What’s he hiding? A pretty rough looking burn that stretches from his hip down to his thigh, for one. Yukiko’s shadow had given it to him, although it doesn’t hurt anymore, not even when he leans on it accidentally. That’s how it is for most of his many cuts and bruises. Dia takes care of the pain, but scars still need to fade.  
  
“What do you want me to  _do_?” his father bellows, clearly tired of this conversation. Yosuke has to wonder how many times they’ve had it, since the investigation started.  
  
“ _Something_!” she shouts right back, “I want you to do  _something_  for your son other than just sit around giving him more shifts at that  _store_!”  
  
The argument switches seamlessly to Junes without so much as a hiccup.  _This_  is an argument Yosuke knows almost by heart. His mother was about as fond of Inaba as he was, spending her days ignoring the snide remarks of cruel housewives while she hands them their free samples with a smile. He starts to lose track of how many times she shouts how “these people are targeting our _family_ “ while his father retorts with passionate instances that this is his “big opportunity”. Yosuke starts to wonder if his name will enter back into the conversation at all, when his mother drops her voice to a lower and much more dangerous tone.  
  
“If I see one more bruise on him, Takuya, just  _one more_ ,” she takes a deep breath, steadying herself, “Then I’m taking Yosuke back to Tokyo.”  
  
He feels his body go stiff.  
  
“I told you,” his father begins, “I can’t just  _leave_!”  
  
“I didn’t say anything about you coming, did I?”  
  
That’s when the lump in his throat starts to choke him.  
  
“Shiori, don’t be a-!” His father is cut off by the sound of his parents’ bedroom door slamming. Then, everything is quiet.  
  
Yosuke stares at his bedroom wall for a long time, pillow hugged close to his stomach as he curls himself around it. He’s wanted to tell them before, but never so strongly as he did now. To let them know, even just  _hint_ , why the bruises keep blossoming on his arms and legs. To let them know he doesn’t mind them. That he’s  _proud_  of them.  
  
But he can’t, because it’s his secret.  _Their_  secret. Yosuke never had one before this, at least not any that actually mattered. He always figured it would be kind of fun. Maybe a little special. In practice, though, it fucking sucked.  
  
Yosuke would go to his mother later that evening, once she cooled down. All smiles and happy words, he’d wrap his arms around her shoulders and rest his chin on her head in the way Yosuke _knew_  made her laugh. He’d laugh too, thanking her for telling him to be patient about Inaba. ‘Its not really that bad,’ he’d say, right before diving into an animated retelling of his friends’ latest exploits.  
  
As long as he kept smiling, everything would be fine.  
  
At least until the next bruise showed up.

**_Yukiko_ **

“Amagi-san?”  
  
She sighed to herself, the mention of her name sailing by her without notice. There was a candle burning just to the left, casting wavering shadows on the opposite walls and holding her attention like a vice. Her mother placed candles like that one all over the inn — “for atmosphere” — although Yukiko didn’t know why they were necessary in staff-only rooms like this.  
  
“Amagi-san!”  
  
“Huh?” she gasped, finally snapping to attention just as the faint tinge of smoke hit her. Drawing back the iron she’d been lazily running over a freshly washed men’s yukata, an ugly brown burn sat on the now-ruined cloth.   
  
“Ruined!” the attendant cried, holding up the yukata for closer inspection, “This is the third one today!”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mai-san,” Yukiko offered lamely, looking down at her feet, “I’ll pay more attention from now on.”   
  
“No, I will,” the small but robust woman corrected, settling herself between Yukiko and the iron, “Your mother didn’t want you working so soon after your return in the first place! Now go get your rest,  _I_  will take care of the rest of the laundry.”  
  
A slight flash of heat started in the back of Yukiko’s mind, although her voice was as meek as ever when she spoke again, “I can do it, really…”  
  
“I insist! Now go on,” she cried, already assuming Yukiko’s old position in front of the ironing board. If the girl frowns, the attendant doesn’t seem to notice.  
  
“Alright,” she finally concedes, turning to leave a little slower than she might usually. The candle flickers as she passes, but Yukiko pointedly ignores it. That distracting little flame had caused her mind to wander enough as it was.  
  
Try as she might, though, nothing seemed to douse the inferno of thoughts swirling around inside her head.  
  
They were meeting tomorrow to go in, for keeps this time. Kanji had been taken, they had gathered all the information they could, and now it was time for action. Yukiko wasn’t a complete novice inside the TV. Souji had insisted she get acclimated for battle in case the need to rescue someone else arose, and she felt…competent, she supposed. The shadows she directed her flames at fell, again and again, in a way Chie said made her jealous. Still, Yukiko couldn’t help but feel…odd, every time she felt that rush of almost unbearable heat, followed by abrupt relief when the fire flowed from her Persona’s hand.   
  
If her Persona was her, why did it feel so… ungainly? The others seemed more than comfortable, even taking moments to test for unseen powers. Chie often summoned a light sheen of frost over her palm, pressing it to her forehead after a particularly grueling fight. Yosuke was still trying to perfect his ability to blow small breezes at will ( _to see if I can blow the fog away_ , he’d always say, although Yukiko suspected he had different intentions from the way his eyes always snapped to their skirts). Even Souji would occasionally dabble in different ways to utilize the power his multiple personas gave him.   
  
Yukiko ran her hand along the wall, sighing as she went. She didn’t want to let them down with her inexperience; didn’t want to let  _Kanji_  down, not when he really needed her.   
  
Yukiko could already hear their cries of protest, should she ever decide to let them in on her secret. That was what frustrated her most of all, really. Her inability to share her fears, not even with her new friends. Not even her  _best_  friend.   
  
Something about it made her feel like a liar.  
  
“Yuki-chan,” a young valet smiled at her when they crossed ways in the hall, “How’s our future manager doing?”  
  
Yukiko’s smile took on a strained quality as she nodded, saying that she was fine. That  _everything_  was fine.   
  
“Don’t work yourself too hard now!” he laughed, turning the corner once their short encounter was finished. Yukiko couldn’t help but swallow what felt like a frog crawling its way up her throat.  
  
She decided then and there to tell Chie tomorrow, about her fear. Only Chie, for now, but maybe the others someday soon.  
  
After all, she already had enough secrets.

**_Chie_ **

Chie had eaten her way through three (well, four) takoyaki plates by the time the clock overhead struck noon. That was when she and Yukiko had agreed to meet, wasn’t it? Her friend was rarely late, and the sudden swell of protectiveness Chie felt so intimately concerning her friend lately started bubbling in her stomach.  
  
Maybe some more food would help.  
  
Yukiko’s tardiness wasn’t the only thing keeping her on edge, though, really. She’d had another close call right before leaving home. Her mother had asked her, quite casually, where she was going and —  _in true Chie fashion_ , her mind supplied bitterly — she very nearly blurted:  _Oh, me, Yukiko, and some other friends are going in for a while. I’ll be back before dinner!_  
  
And then there was last night, when she and her father had been watching a Bruce Lee marathon and she commented that  _he_  could probably decimate shadows like nothing else. The look her father had given her crossed confused and hedged over into worry.  
  
Apparently, she’d been saying quite a few odd things lately. At least that’s what her parents told her.   
  
She had never been good at keeping secrets, not since she was little. Words had always flowed out of her so naturally she rarely bothered to censor them. Now, though, carrying a secret that actually meant the difference between life and death for someone? Chie was terrified.  
  
How could she be trusted with something so important when she didn’t even trust  _herself_?  
  
A flash of red out of the corner of her eye wiped the pensive look from her face, leaving only a bright smile when Yukiko waved to her.  
  
“Hey,” her friend smiled, sinking down next to her at the large white table, “Are the boys not here yet?”  
  
“Yeah, I think Yosuke said they were meeting up by their houses so they could walk together,” Chie explained as casually as she could muster.   
  
“Good,” Yukiko sighed with relief, “I need to talk to you about something…”  
  
As Chie listened intently to Yukiko’s shy confession of fear, nerves, and frustration, her tension started to thaw just slightly. Maybe it wouldn’t really be so bad, keeping all these secrets.  
  
Because they weren’t just hers; they were  _theirs _.__


End file.
